He strode up and down in great agitation. Knut Holm was thoroughly angry now.
His own son as a rival! Was there ever such a ridiculous state of things? If Vindt got any inkling of the situation, there would be no end to the gossip he would make of it—it would be impossible to remain in the place.
Give way at once, and submit? No, that was not Knut Holm's way. And indeed, the very thought made him feel miserable at heart, for he had grown really fond of Betty.
Well, let her choose for herself, that was the best way. She and her mother could work it out together, and see which looked most like business.
He went down to the waterside to hunt up Bramsen; in times of real difficulty, when he felt uncertain how to act, it was always helpful to spend an hour listening to Bramsen's honest and genial talk.
Up in the loft he found Bramsen, lying at his ease on a couple of coffee-bags, studying a telegram.
"Hullo, Bramsen, what are you up to now?"
Bramsen half rose, and sat holding one hand to his forehead, waving the telegram in the other.
"Well, if this isn't the queerest...."
"There's a deal of queer things about just lately. What's happening now?"